


For the Glory Days

by ryukoishida



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Mafia AU, Minor Character Deaths, bodyguard!Levi, mafia boss!eren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-23
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-03 00:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2830751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryukoishida/pseuds/ryukoishida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After his father’s disappearance, newly appointed successor of the Jaeger Clan – also known to the public as the Titans due to their immense influence in the underground world – Eren is determined to find out what has happened. In the meantime, his bodyguard-or-maybe-more for nearly ten years, Levi Ackerman, seems to be hiding something from him as well. How do you save yourself from someone whom you thought you could trust your life with?</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Glory Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shotgunsinlace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shotgunsinlace/gifts).



> Written for Ereri Secret Santa 2014. Prompt: mafia boss!Eren and bodyguard!Levi.

“Earlier this week, there has been a vicious shootout incident at the corner of Hohe Street and Kapitol Avenue, which has resulted in one dead and two injured. The deceased appears to be an innocent bystander who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. On the other hand, the two injured men who had fled the scene have been identified by witnesses as bearing the tattooed insignia of the Titans – one of the largest underground associations in Sina.”

 

On the flat screen television, the reporter continues with a solemn expression on his sallow face, “The police have released a statement today – ” and the scene switches to a press conference, in which a towering, broad-shouldered man with a blond undercut is addressing the media, a firm line of his lips and stern slant of his eyebrows making his blue eyes more striking in the white flashes of the cameras. “Erwin Smith, commander of the triad and mafia investigation team, stated that they have enough evidence to believe that the suspect who opened fire on Tuesday was a member of the Royals, and that this is related to a series of shootings and attacks that have been happening all around the city more and more frequently for the last three months.”

 

“The rivalry between the Royals and the Titans has clearly gotten out of control, and it is beginning to endanger innocent people in Sina,” Smith speaks in a deep tenor, his gaze staring straight at the camera and his audience. “We urge the citizens to take extra caution when they are outside and to report any suspicious activities and persons to our department. In addition, even though we can’t guarantee that we will capture all members of both factions, we can promise you this: in due time, we _will_ put the criminals who have been causing disturbances in the city behind bars for good.”

 

Someone mutes the television so that only images of the next news report flicker across the screen silently. In the dimmed meeting room, everyone looks either grim or irritated.

 

“Do you see what’s happening here, Eren? We are being targeted by the Royals, and they are not trying to be subtle about it. It’s almost like they _wanted_ the police to get involved, and you know how risky it’ll get if we get onto their radar, especially with Smith as the head of the investigation.” A man with streaked grey hair stares straight at the dark-haired young man sitting at the head of the long table, his tone filled with a trace of panic though he’s trying hard not to show it, and everyone sitting at the mahogany table look to their leader with mixed expressions.

 

Some of the faces seem to show uncertainty about the situation rather than to aim accusation at a specific person.

 

“Hugo, you have to understand that Eren has just started…” The man sitting adjacent to the one who have just spoken begins, but is immediately interrupted by more increasingly angry, ranting words.

 

“Hannes, please, let me finish,” Hugo turns sharply at him, and Hannes shuts his mouth and glances apologetically at the young man at the head of the table, whose lips have tightened into a firm, unforgiving line, but he gives Hugo a single nod to signify him to keep going.

 

He spreads his arms out with needless, dramatic flair. “Look, I’m not trying to place blame on anyone here. This war we have with the Reiss clan has been going on for too long, and violent clashes between us are becoming disturbingly frequent lately due to Mr. Grisha’s... disappearance.” He wrings his hands together nervously before him as he dares not say the wrong thing regarding the Titan’s former leader, especially when his son seems to be drilling a hole with that hard glare of his. “What I’m saying is, we have to put a stop to this before the police uses that as an excuse to crack us down. That’s all. Eren, you are the leader of the Jaeger clan now; you have responsibilities and to be able to carry them out, you have to make sacrifices, leave your grief behind and move forward ­­–– ”

 

“Mr. Hugo,” the woman sitting on Eren’s right side speaks up, and all eyes turn to her in silent alarm. Her voice is delicate like spring’s breeze but there’s nothing warm about her grey irises or the way she rises to her feet slowly, her slender body that dons an elegant charcoal business suit exuding threat that people will instinctively know to back away from even without any verbal warning. “I think you’ve forgotten your place. Don’t ever talk about our father with such disrespect again. And like you have mentioned, Eren is the leader of the Titans now, so I think it’d be wise if you can address him with a more appropriate manner from now on.”

 

“Mikasa,” Eren places a calming hand over her smaller one that’s shaking on the table. “It’s okay.” She releases a long breath, and sits back down without another word, but she makes eye contact with each person around the table, daring them to challenge her.

 

Many of the people sitting at that table are veterans, so to speak, and have been in the organization for longer than Mikasa has been alive, but nobody is stupid enough to speak up against her during such a serious discussion. Though the three people sitting at the head of the table are the youngest, they are also the ones who are closest and most trustworthy to Grisha, so despite the fact that they are only in their early twenties, they are already handling the business within the organization more smoothly and with a fresher perspective than the older generation. Even if a few of the elders feel uneasy about the future of the Titans being held in three youngsters’ hands, there is very little they can do.

 

“I understand what you’re saying, Mr. Hugo,” Eren states, tone composed as he eyes the older man steadily with his bright teal gaze. “Like everyone else here, I’m also deeply concerned about the rivalry with the Reiss clan, and how many of our brothers and sisters have been injured or killed because of them. Let me assure you all that I am not happy about this, and I – the three of us – will deal with the Royals when we have a more solid plan.”

 

“But –– ”

 

“For now,” Eren’s voice is rising above Hugo’s and his gaze hardens into a colder jade, demanding their attention and absolute compliance without any room to argue, “however, a more important matter requires our attention.”

 

“If you mean Mr. Grisha’s disappearance –– ”

 

“That is exactly what I mean. My father has disappeared without a trace two months ago, and his bodyguards – Mr. Eld and Mr. Oluo – have returned with heavy injuries and unable to recall what happened even after all this time. I’m sure you’ll all agree that this is suspicious and necessitates a more thorough investigation, no?”

 

“Even so,” one of the more respectable elders frowns disapprovingly. “Spending so much manpower and time on something that might not have a feasible outcome seems wasteful when we could be using that same amount to deal with the Royals.”

 

For a short moment, Eren does not speak, but merely glances at the elder who has just made his opinion known. It’s a subtle motion, but everyone present can see that the man shrinks back slightly against his chair under Eren’s withering scrutiny.

 

“Mr. Jarnach does have a valid point,” Hugo starts with a small voice.

 

“I will see my father’s corpse before anyone can convince me he’s truly gone,” Eren stands up abruptly, his eyes flashing. He’s breathing harshly, his entire body shaking from the rage that suddenly surge through his blood, making his ears ring. The sensation – the riling, angry heat that flushes across his skin in an instant – is comfortingly familiar, though he hasn’t felt it for years.

 

Eren’s isn’t sure when he has started associating anger with something that he feels remotely comfortable with; he’s certain that this line of thought is dangerous and unhealthy for his mental being.

 

“Make no mistake: there’s no one in this room who despises the Reiss clan more than me, or did everyone forget how my mother died?”

 

The silence that immediately follows is deadly stifling; no one can even find the nerve to look in the young man’s general direction because of course – _of course_ – they all remember how Carla Jaeger died.

 

They all remember how their leader reacted soon after, too, and no one will be able to forget the consequence of betraying Grisha Jaeger’s trust when the culprit was found and disposed of; Grisha had made sure of that.

 

“Eren, may I?” The man with blond locks loosely tied into a ponytail at the back of his head who’s sitting on the left to Eren asks, his clear azure irises sharp and alert.

 

“Go ahead, Armin,” he grits out, squeezes his eyes shut as he releases a frustrated sigh through his nose before taking his seat, the chair squeaking in protest from the force.

 

Armin doesn’t stand up but he looks around the table once, making sure that everyone is paying attention.

 

“I think we can all agree that our number one priority right now is to resolve this ongoing conflict with the Reiss clan, and we will be working on that; however, it’s not something that can be fixed in the near future. There will be meticulous strategy planning involved to ensure that we can root out the major players of the Royals, if not the entire organization, with the least amount of damage to our side, and it will certainly take time. On the other hand,” Armin looks over at his best friend, his hands gathering into determined fists on the table, “we cannot forget about Mr. Grisha either. The circumstances under which he has disappeared is indeed suspicious, and if there’s even a slight chance that he’s still alive and waiting for rescue or a chance to escape, don’t you think that we all owe him that much, at least?”

 

When nobody speaks up, Armin continues, the volume of his voice rising slightly. “Mr. Jarnach, do you not remember how Mr. Grisha nearly sacrificed his own life to save your children fourteen years ago? And Mr. Hugo, do you not remember Mr. Grisha was the one who dragged you out of your gambling debt? Everyone sitting at this table right now has, one way or another, been in debt to Mr. Grisha’s kindness, and this is the crucial time when we can repay him.”

 

The two older males whose names Armin has called out have the decency to look ashamed, but Jarnach asks with an obvious grimace. “What do you suggest we do then?”

 

“We split up the workload,” Armin replies without a second of hesitation. “Eren will pick a handful of people to help him look into Mr. Grisha’s whereabouts, and once we locate him, we’ll get more people involved in the rescue mission. In the meantime, the rest of us will work out a plan to deal with the Royals; I’ve already got a few scenarios figured out so we can get started right away if we wish. Would anyone like to make other additional suggestions?”

 

A few of the members shake their heads while others just shrug, murmuring their assent; Armin’s idea seems reasonable enough.

 

He turns to Eren, waiting for him to make the final decision. It doesn’t matter what others think or say at this point; as the Titans’ leader and boss of the entire organization, Eren always gets the final word, and he has always trusted Armin’s abilities. This time is no exception.

 

“All right. We’ll go with Armin’s idea then.”

 

There’s a trace of relief in Eren’s voice when he stands up to signify the end of the meeting, but he hopes that he can at least pass the shaking fear that still rakes through his limbs as a sign of lingering wrath because he can never, _never_ show any chinks in his armour in front of these people.

 

If he does, Eren has no doubt that he will be picked and tear apart by the greedy, animalistic savagery and hunger that reside in these men who are starving for power, wanting to reach for the top spot of Sina’s largest underground business.

 

These men and women may be Grisha’s most faithful circle of followers – some of them have been by his father’s side right from the beginning, constructing this monster of an underground empire brick by painful brick cemented by split blood of rival gangs and reinforced by the allegiance of his supporters – but they are not good people, at least from the moral aspect, which Eren thought he has long learned to disregard.

 

He can see it on their faces: they are just waiting for the son of the previous, presumably dead boss to make one, little mistake – a vulnerable spot that a skilled, devious individual can take advantage of – and it will be more than enough of a reason to stab a spear right into that soft, exposed skin between the slabs of metal. Everything will be washed in red and chaos.

 

He cannot allow the organization that his father has poured his entire life into building to crumble within his own two, shivering, helpless hands.

 

-

 

“How did the meeting go?”

 

The second Eren places a foot out of the meeting room he hears the question asked with an undertone of distaste. The footsteps of another person follow closely behind him, the presence familiar and always reassuring. They walk slowly to the end of the hallway, letting others pass by first, and after making sure that no one is within earshot, Eren replies with a cold smirk, stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets.

 

“Don’t you think you’re being a bit too presumptuous for a mere bodyguard?”

 

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Levi scoffs lightly. “I’ve been looking after you since you were ten, Eren.” Levi’s tone seems to suggest that it’s futile to hide anything from him since he can read the younger man like a book anyway.

 

It’s been twelve years since Grisha Jaeger hired him to be his only son’s bodyguard, but on days like these, it feels much longer than that. Even when he revealed himself to be an ex-police officer, Grisha simply laughed in that deep, warm way of his, and said, “As long as you have the skills and honest intent to protect the ones I love, Mr. Ackerman, I can care less about your past professions. You will be treated as part of the family within the Titans; the only thing I ask of you is to keep my son safe.”

 

At that point in time, Levi still didn’t know much about the Titans or its infamous leader, only that they are an influential group of people in the underground operations, and unlike the Royals and other smaller factions, the Jaeger clan tends to help out those who are in need, though sometimes it meant their goals would be achieved through illegal and violent means.

 

Levi had no problem with that. After all, that was how he had survived since he was a child growing up in Sina’s roughest neighbourhood with no one to depend upon but himself until he joined the police under circumstances that were out of his control.

 

“I’m not a child anymore,” Eren snaps, then in a softer tone, face turned the other way, “I don’t need you to look after me, or perhaps you’ve forgotten your place. Your sole duty is to remain loyal to me and my family; that’s all.”

 

“And to make sure you don’t die,” Levi reminds him with a straight face.

 

“Well, there’s that,” Eren breaths out a sigh, but the corner of his lips is lifting upward despite his best effort.

 

They remain companionably silent as they make their way to Eren’s office on the top floor, and when they are finally alone with the door slamming shut behind them, Eren collapses heavily into his chair, his eyes screwed shut.

 

“The old bastards didn’t go with Mr. Arlert’s plan?” Levi chances to ask when Eren continues to lounge in his chair without a word, just breathing steadily in and out though there’s a definite frown on his brows.

 

“Levi! That’s rude,” Eren chides, but when he blinks open his eyes, there’s a trace of amusement as he sits up straighter in his leather seat and props his head on his palms, elbows resting against the table surface.

 

“Like you don’t call them names in your head.”

 

“I’m the boss; I’m allowed to.” He picks up a pen and begins to twirl it between his nimble fingers, eyes unnaturally transfixed on the writing utensil.

 

“Uh-huh.” Levi knows he’s stalling, but he knows when to stop pushing.

 

After a full minute – “Actually, they all agree to follow Armin’s plan,” he places the pen back inside its holder with more force than necessary. “ – Some of them begrudgingly, I’m guessing,” Eren adds with a cold chuckle.

 

Levi crosses his arms and leans against the wall with a hum, waiting for him to continue.

 

“I just can’t believe that they can cast him off so easily like that – it’s only been two months! And besides, we’re not even sure if Father’s truly… not here anymore. How can they just assume the worst? How can they just ignore the possibility that he’s still alive out there? How can they go on as if nothing has happened? All they do in these meetings for the past weeks is bickering about the next big project and voting against whatever suggestions Armin and Mikasa have,” Eren buries his face with his hands and lets out an irritated groan. “I _know_ what they’re doing. They’re not exactly trying to hide the fact that they want me out, now that my father is out of the picture and is unable to support me anymore.”

 

“They’re only human,” Levi comments idly, “and so are you, Eren.”

 

“What the hell do you mean by that?” Eren turns to him sharply.

 

“Simply that you are under too much pressure for these past couple of months, and if you don’t watch out, you’ll crack,” Levi says, calm silver irises glancing up to meet Eren’s eyes before shifting to the side, his face void of any emotions that Eren can read.

 

“I know they see me as some useless little college boy who can’t handle the big, bad guys –– ”

 

“You’re not useless,” Levi interrupts before he can keep going, “an inexperienced brat, yes, but not useless.”

 

“Jeez, thanks,” Eren rolls his eyes.

 

Levi smirks, and it’s a little bit teasing which causes Eren’s heart to do some strange stuttering; the young man promptly ignores this. “You know I speak nothing but the truth.”

 

Eren does know this, and that’s what makes him appreciate the man’s presence in his life even more; he can’t have asked for a more honest (sometimes brutally so) and capable person to be his personal guard. It’s really thanks to his father, Eren supposes, and the thought of that drags him back down to the immediacy of the moment.

 

“We need to pick a small group of people to investigate. Any candidates you think would be suitable?”

 

Levi looks at him evenly. “Isn’t that for you to decide?”

 

“I’ve already asked Mr. Hannes to gather a list of volunteers who want to do this, but you’re a better observer of people, so I want to ask your opinion and to go through the list later.” Eren shrugs. “I trust your judgment.”

 

“Very well.”

 

Just then, there’s a knock at the door, and after Eren asks the person to come in, Hannes steps into the office, a single sheet of paper in his hand that he passes silently to Eren’s outstretched palm.

 

“Come over here for a sec,” he waves over to Levi, who comes forward and wordlessly stand behind Eren’s seated figure. He looks over his shoulder, leaning in so that his face is right beside Eren’s, the warmth emanating from the raven-haired man doesn’t go unnoticed, and Eren swallows hard, eyes fluttering close as he attempts to control his urge to touch the hand that’s lying so close to his own on the table.

 

He has to remind himself that Hannes is still there, standing awkwardly by the doorway and trying to look out the window on the adjacent wall and pointedly not at them – Hannes, who’s like a second father to him in the Titans family, who teaches him about the running of the various businesses during his spare time. He really shouldn’t let these physical reactions to Levi’s proximity get the better of him, especially in front of an audience.

 

Ever since that one little, innocent kiss… Eren shakes his head but is unable to dislodge the image out of his mind: the man’s slightly chapped lips generously warm against his shivering ones. His entire body was quivering that night, his sleep shirt sticking to his back with cold sweat as the remnants of his nightmare dissipated into the cool night air with only the presence of Levi grounding him to reality.

 

They didn’t talk about it afterward – Eren not knowing how to start and Levi pretending nothing unusual had happened, so the young leader decided to leave it at that, thinking that he had more things to worry about than the erratic heartbeats that wreck through his chest whenever his bodyguard shows him the slightest hint of a smile or accidental touches that leave Eren’s cheeks burning red and Levi pulling away too quickly to be a natural response.

 

They’ve known each other for far too long to let insignificant things like these bother them, but even without any verbal communication, Eren can sense the shift between them; he has no name for it yet, but he has a very good guess at what it is. From Levi’s strange behaviour, it seems like his bodyguard is in a similar state.

 

“Thoughts?” Eren mutters, eyes sticking to the list of names, afraid that the smallest movement of his head will bring him nearer to the dark-haired man. There is no reason for Levi to be standing this close to him, so Eren suspects that he’s doing this on purpose, but for what objective, he honestly can’t – nor does he have the luxury and time to – tell.

 

Levi stands up straight once more, his lips tucking into a thoughtful line; only now does Eren allow himself to look up as he waits for his bodyguard’s opinion.

 

“Jean can get hot-headed, but if Marco is with him, it should balances things out. Connie and Sasha make a good team, and their parents are good friends of your father, so that’s not a problem. And of course, Mr. Hannes is more than qualified to be the team leader. However,” Levi snatches the pen that Eren has been playing with before off the table and circles three names on the sheet. “I would refrain from taking these three into the group.”

 

Eren raises his eyebrows in slight confusion at the highlighted names. “But Annie, Bertolt, and Reiner have always been a very effective team; even as picky as Mikasa is with her subordinates, I remember her mentioning that those three have never made a mistake during any of the operations.”

 

Levi opens his mouth, ready to explain, but gives a hesitant look towards Hannes instead, and Eren comprehends his intention.

 

“Mr. Hannes, do you mind stepping out for a minute?”

 

“Of course,” he nods and leaves quickly.

 

“So?”

 

It wouldn’t be such a big deal if it were any other operations, but since this concerns the life of Eren’s father and the leader of the Titans, Levi feels that it’s his duty to report the findings he has been keeping to himself for the past few months.

 

“I believe that Annie Leonhart, Reiner Braun, and Bertolt Hoover are moles sent by the Reiss clan to infiltrate us,” Levi says.

 

“No fucking way,” Eren shakes his head with a brash laugh. “They may keep to themselves a lot, and their backgrounds may be a mystery, but that doesn’t make them rats.”

 

“I have sources – reliable ones from before I joined the Titans, and they are excellent information gatherers – and they said that the three have been seen dealing with Reiss’ people.”

 

“What do you mean by ‘dealing’?” Eren frowns, drumming his fingers on the table restlessly.

 

Levi stares at him with a raised brow, as if doubting his intelligence by asking such an obvious question, and when Eren still refuses to acknowledge it out loud, Levi heaves a small, desperate sigh. “Believe what you want, Eren. You asked me for my opinion, and I have told you what I think. I have photographic evidence to backup my assumption as well, if you wish to see it. Whether or not you decide to use them in the end is still your call.”

 

“I know,” Eren murmurs, voice strained so thread-thin that it seems like it will break any second. “I just can’t believe that they would…”

 

“Welcome to the real world, brat,” Levi lets out a callous laugh. He has been so used to the concept of betrayal and momentarily losing a part of himself because he has chosen to trust certain people unworthy of his faith that he has almost become numb to it, but he remembers how young and inexperienced Eren still is in the business, and Levi softens his tone when he speaks next, his hand a comforting weight on the younger man’s shoulder, “Let’s just take it one step at a time, okay?”  

 

“Yeah, okay,” Eren replies, closing his eyes tiredly in the hopes that the swirling dark fear that he might be betrayed by the closest around him will dissolve and be laid forgotten in the residues of his broken thoughts.

 

-

 

It always comes back to him in a series of fragmented dreams: freshly developed photographs suspended on a silver wire by their corners, liquid chemical still dripping with its hesitant _plop plop plop_ , steady like clockwork, like heartbeat. They’re laid out one after another in the precise chronological order that it happened when he was ten years old.

 

He breathes in the stale, musky air, the room pitch black except for the glimpses of red luminescent glow hovering like fireflies around each photograph. If he steps closer, he can see that they don’t seem to make any sense, at least at first glance – random pictures that are mostly extreme close-ups; so intimate are the shots, in fact, that he’s afraid of what they represent.

 

All of them are black and white with a dab of colour; his fingernail lightly scratches the glossy surface, and he remembers. He knows what they mean and what has happened so many years ago has defined his thoughts and ruled his logic ever since that day he found his mother’s corpse in the courtyard of their house, the blood from the woman’s lukewarm body trailing from open wounds and running into the rich soil moistened by a human’s life.

 

One photograph is of her iris – a splash of warm caramel brown dulled and chilled by death.

 

The next one is of her lips – pale with a tint of pink, the blood leaking from the corner of her mouth is absolute black, a taint that can never be washed off no matter how hard he rubs at the photo.

 

And then her slender neck, kissed by bruises violet and blue in the shape of the killer’s fingers.

 

The rest of the pictures in the series depict her limbs and torso but they don’t make much of a difference in Eren’s tear-brimmed eyes, the brutality of crimson blurring into meaningless distortion, and he remembers them well: slash after bloody slash that mark her body, slicing her skin into nothing more than a mass of mangled, raw flesh of a wild animal messily slaughtered, no longer recognizable as Carla Jaeger, no longer a human being.

 

A small part of him wonders if his mother was still alive and conscious when those knife wounds were inflicted upon her, and the part that’s drowning his brain with white noise doesn’t want to find out – wants to turn away from the pitiable sight, from what was once his dear mother.

 

The bile rising up his oesophagus and the strong urge to throw up, and the endless number of nights afterward plagued by bad dreams come later.

 

When Eren finally comes to his senses, he sees his father crumpling beside his wife’s lifeless body, choking back tearless sobs, Carla’s blood coating his skin as he gathers her into his arms, yet there’s something flickering behind his circular lenses – melancholy that’s soon consumed by a darker, more menacing wrath that made him almost seems… inhuman, reason tear to shreds by claws of blinding fury.

 

“F-father?” His voice wavers; he doesn’t recognize this man, the shadow of a beast crossing his exhausted face, familiar but strange.

 

“Come, Eren,” he gets up then, attires drenched in rivulets of claret though he pays no heed, and when Eren tentatively clasps his small hand around Grisha’s, the slipperiness and the overwhelming copper scent of fresh blood make his gut churns in nausea.

 

It doesn’t take them long before they find themselves inside a narrow, windowless chamber, air decayed with sawdust and the salty tang of bodily fluids.

 

Grisha is not standing beside him anymore, but is sitting on a rickety stool. Before his crooked figure is a faceless man – faceless because no matter how hard Eren tries to recall, his brain refuses to provide him with even a hint of the murderer’s face – his wrists bound up in rusted shackles chained to the wall above his lolled head, dirty clumps of knotted black hair covering his eyes, his knees just suspended an inch or so above ground as his legs give way to fatigue a while ago.

 

Eren notices belatedly that his father is holding a switchblade in one hand, the silver already tainted with ruby droplets that fall down with a mesmerizing _plop plop plop_.

 

“Why. Did. You. Do. It.” With each whispered word, Grisha cuts the man’s exposed skin that isn’t already marred with shallow gashes – on his arm, chest, cheek.

 

Eren guesses the man might have been screaming in pain earlier on, but from his hitched, weak moans that now leave his cracked lips, it appears that he’s too tired to even let out any sounds of protest at this point.

 

“Father, what are you doing?” Ten-year-old Eren asks in a small voice, his body curling unto himself in terror as he tries to stick to the wall as close as possible.

 

“Eren,” Grisha turns to face him composedly, a few beads of blood dotted his stubble-covered cheeks, “Eren, this is the punishment for crossing the Jaeger clan, do you understand? When you become of age and take over the Titans, be kind to your own people, but do not let others take advantage of your kindness, because this…” He nudges the tip of the blade lightly against the fragile skin of the man’s inner wrist, and a whimper slips out from the shaking body, “…this is what happens when you let your guard down.” 

 

Grisha slowly – agonizingly slowly – pushes the blade in centimeter-by-centimeter, twisting it a little and causing the man to howl in anguish before he breaks into uncontrollable sobs.

 

Eren slaps a hand to stifle his own cries; he doesn’t want to watch anymore – the grimace on the killer’s face, the stream of wine-red trailing down his naked arm and drip onto the floor endlessly.

 

“P-please, Mr. Jaeger, please!” His breathing is ragged and voice gurgling in rawness, words garbled almost to something indiscernible.  

 

“Will you speak now?”

 

“I-it’s the Royals – Rod Reiss sent me here, please! I only did what I was ordered to do. God. Spare my life.” He turns his blank, colourless eyes to Eren’s stunned figure, pleading. “Young master, please!”

 

“Thank you for telling the truth,” Grisha tells him, and he’s smiling but people who knows him well can tell that it’s not a genuine expression of gratitude; Eren knows what the cold smile means, but the murderer apparently doesn’t because he was still thanking Grisha for understanding when the man pulls the blade out from his wrist and aims for his heart in less than a heartbeat.

 

Eren blinks back frightened tears and finds himself in the dark room again surrounded by photographs.

 

He has never seen the body parts, but he has heard enough whispered rumours that the traitor’s various limbs and chunks of his body had been sent back to the Reiss’ household that he can let his imagination do all the work: the first picture an entire severed foot, flesh shrivelled; the next a hand with the nails pulled off; a head that’s missing an ear, several teeth, and both eyes, all of which are merely concave cavities; and on and on and on. He wants to stop staring, the photos so hyper-realistic and grotesque despite them being only in black and white, but he can’t stop, his eyes transfixed, having a life of their own.

 

Then he feels someone – something – grabbing at his fingers, and he glances down to find his mother’s familiar warm brown eyes staring back at him, except… Except he knows, of course, it can’t be her.  

 

She’s saying something; her deformed lips, made to look like she’s grinning widely from the cut that starts at the corner of her mouth to the side of her cheek, are bleeding and they are moving, desperate to tell him something, but everything is silent.

 

‘My son,’ Eren thinks he can read from the creature’s lips. ‘My son, save me.’

 

He begins to pull his hand back, but suddenly the creature – he refuses to acknowledge that thing as his mother – tightens her grasp, vice-like and unyielding, demanding him to pull her out of the gates of hell and back to life.

 

“Let go,” Eren murmurs, forcing himself to turn away from the wretched creature, half-dead and broken. The pressure of her fingers is edging on the line of agony, his bones protesting as he keeps trying to withdraw his hand to no avail.

 

Tears that stem from years of frustration and horror are burning at the brims of his eyes and no matter how hard Eren attempts to hold back, they roll down his cheeks hotly, and he can taste the bitter salt at the tip of his tongue, and it’s real.

 

At one point in his life, that was his reality.

 

And he needs to get out.

 

“Eren…” A weak furl of his name coagulates in the empty space, turning the still air into a tangible matter, but there’s only darkness all around him, and something is grabbing his arm and shaking him violently. He winces as he tries with all his might to wrench away, his mind still searching for the muffled voice that’s calling his name. “Wake up, damn it.”

 

He gasps in deep breaths as if he has been forced to stay underwater for too long and has just surfaced for air when he feels a hand touching his clammy cheek, the shock of heat so sudden that Eren is blinking rapidly at the sensation, the glow of orange on his left side slowly focusing into the shape of his bedside lamp and the familiar outline of a man. He pushes himself up to a sitting position, a shaking hand brushing through his disarrayed locks.

 

The name gets stuck in his throat; he swallows noisily, his heart still palpitating so hard it almost hurts to breathe.

 

A gentle, coaxing hand on his back, and Eren instantly relaxes into it, letting his eyes flutter close.

 

“Same nightmare?”

 

Eren nods; he doesn’t trust that his voice won’t tremble so he doesn’t speak.

 

He used to have similar nightmares when he was younger after the incident; it always left him awake in the middle of the night, sweat-soaked and shaking with his mind filled with the after-images of bloody smiles and muted screams, and Levi had always been there for him. He never said anything, but just the mere presence of another person seemed enough to placate him.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Eren,” Levi is saying, bringing him closer until their foreheads touch, his fingers lightly carding through the curls on the back of Eren’s head.

 

He takes caution not to say anything irresponsible like “your father’s going to be okay” or “it’s just a nightmare” – because he has known Eren since before Carla Jaeger’s death, and it has never been _just_ a nightmare.

 

“Is it?” Eren asks, a tired smile on his lips, and Levi grimaces at the desolated, powerless tone in the young man’s voice. He understands there’s not much he can do about the nightmares – it’s all in Eren’s head and as much as Levi would like to tear the monstrous images and sounds from his charge’s brain, it doesn’t work like that – but he can still do this: comfort him in a way that’s almost natural to them, through touches and soothing words, and though they may mean very little, Levi hopes that it’s enough of a distraction to pull Eren out of his terrifying reminisces.

 

He tilts his head just the slightest and places a soft kiss on Eren’s lips. It’s the same kind of kiss from several weeks ago when Eren woke from another bad dream: careful and chaste, not expecting anything in return.

 

This time, however, when Levi begins to pull away, Eren’s chasing after him, and Levi isn’t sure when the other man has taken a hold of his tie and is now tugging it insistently so that the raven-haired man has no choice but to follow his lead, eyes shutting just in time for their mouths to clash unceremoniously together, and there’s something unpractised and desperate in the way Eren claws into his hair and nips at his lower lip, as if begging him wordlessly not to go.

 

Levi has no intention of leaving.

 

When he draws back, Eren is panting, his heart beating erratically, and his fingers have lost the urgency from a few minutes ago; he turns his head to the side, biting his lower lip in worry, and releases his hold on Levi’s shirtfront.

 

“Oh god, I-I’m sorry, Levi…” Now that his senses have caught up with him, Eren is ashamed at his own boldness for keeping the kiss going, for going after his bodyguard like some kind of untamed animal. “I d-didn’t –– ”

 

“Eren, look at me, damn it,” Levi is whispering fiercely, his hands keeping the other man firmly in place, but when Eren still refuses to face him, Levi tucks a hand under his chin, “If you’re going to bullshit about how you didn’t mean to kiss me, I fucking swear –– ”

 

“It’s more like I shouldn’t have,” Eren murmurs so softly, his voice cracking and gaze still lowered.

 

“Why not?” Levi quietly demands, a thumb tracing delicately across his cheekbone.

 

“It’s not right,” the brunet seems to be momentarily distracted by the surprisingly gentle gesture. “There are plenty of things I should be worried about right now; I should concentrate on saving Father and dealing with those troublesome Royals, but instead, I…” He groans in frustration, burying his face against his hands.

 

Because how can he admit to himself and the man before him who has become more than just a staff member on the Jaeger’s security team, or an older brother figure who watches out for him since he was still a child, that somewhere along the way, Eren realizes that he has fallen for the man who has sworn to protect him?

 

“It’s unhealthy to keep your burdens bottled up inside yourself,” Levi tells him softly as he pries Eren’s fingers away from his blushing cheeks. “Let me help you, okay? It… it doesn’t have to mean anything, if you don’t want it to.”

 

Levi sees him swallowing hard, his eyes trailing along the line of his charge’s throat before he senses Eren leaning towards him once more, his exhale brushing against Levi’s cheek and then he’s kissing him – carefully at first, and then he gets bolder, to Levi’s surprise, as he pulls his bodyguard with his tie, the knot taunt against his throat and it’s not only the pressure from the material that’s getting his breaths hitched.

 

He opens his mouth and Levi welcomes this change of pace as he devours everything Eren is offering him. Even if this turns out to be a one-time incident, Levi would like to remember the earnest glint of his viridian eyes and the little noises he makes at the back of his throat when Levi has done something right with his tongue or touched him on a sensitive spot along his spine.

 

Eren’s pliant mouth against his own and his wandering and dexterous fingers are intoxicating, and when Levi allows Eren to haul him towards the bed so that he ends up straddling the brunet who’s clad only in a thin sleep shirt and boxers, he lets himself forget that this is nothing more than a gesture of consolation, a release of tension – a distraction, so to speak.

 

Levi needs to keep reminding himself that the heated kisses they’re sharing is merely a form of physical comfort, that Eren’s murmuring of his name, almost a caress in the chilly night air against his skin, is Eren’s means of anchoring himself to the reality of this world and not of his dreams. 

 

He ignores the slow onslaught of dread in his heart that he knows will overwhelm and eat at him when he finds himself alone later that night, and pushes the thin cotton shirt up Eren’s chest as he peppers close-mouthed kisses down his abdomen, tongue occasionally darting out to taste his bronzed skin blessed by last summer’s sunlight and fingernails lightly grazing down his sides, causing him to shiver and his breath to quicken.

 

When Levi glances up, Eren has his arm thrown across his eyes and his lower lip has been bitten raw and red, his chest rising and falling mesmerizingly.

 

“Eren, are you okay?” If there’s a hint of concern in Levi’s question, Eren doesn’t comment on it.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Eren nods, his dark hair a halo against the pale sheets. He shifts his arm to place his hand on Levi’s cheek, and a weak smile tugs at his lips when Levi leans against the warmth of his palm.

 

Taking Eren’s hand and guiding him so that he can bury his fingers into his hair, Levi begins to lower his head and mouths at the prominent swell barely constrained by the thin material of his boxers.

 

“Ah,” Eren’s hips joltup a little at the sensation, his fingers tightening on the other man’s dark locks slightly, and Levi spends a few blissful moments listening to Eren’s muffled moans as he continues to leisurely suck and lap while slipping his fingers underneath the waistband and gradually pulling the garment down.

 

“L-Levi, don’t you know it’s rude to stare?” Eren stutters, turning his head to the side, but it does nothing to hide the flush on his cheeks.

 

The raven-haired man chuckles, the warm exhales making his sensitive skin tingle. “Don’t tell me you’re shy about something as frivolous as nudity?” For some reason, he finds the fact more amusing than it should be – well, maybe endearing would be a more accurate description of how Eren’s acting right now.

 

“Well, I mean – I’ve never –– ” He clamps his mouth shut after realizing what he’s implicating. So he’s twenty-two years old and he’s never had sex with another person – so what? Nobody needs to know that, especially his bodyguard whom he apparently is infatuated with.

 

“You’ve never?” Levi prompts, but Eren just shakes his head at him, his mouth set in a tight line.

 

“Suit yourself,” Levi gives a nonchalant shrug before diving back down without a warning, swallowing Eren in one, long breath.

 

“Hnng… fuck,” he whines into the sheets, fingers scrabbling to hold onto something, anything.

 

Levi takes that as a positive reaction, and begins to suck him in earnest, hollowing out his cheeks and moving up and down his shaft in a rhythm that’s only spiraling faster. One of his hands is pressing Eren’s hip down against the mattress while the other is at the base of his cock, fingers encircling the part where his mouth can’t reach.

 

He can feel his own erection strained tight and hot, the sight of Eren’s flushed skin and lips swollen and glossy, but his bright eyes are still staring straight at him, all shyness from before having dissipated somewhere between being turned on and wanting to see Levi’s lips stretched around his cock, and Levi thinks he can probably come just by touching himself through his trousers at this point, but this is not about him.

 

When his jaw starts to ache, he replaces his mouth with his hands, and the pace with which he jerks him off is ruthless – fast, hard flicks and a thumb rubbing at the tip until his length is slick with his own pre-cum and Levi’s spit.

 

From his shoulder, Levi maps his way up with his lips, pressing wet, open-mouth kisses on Eren’s neck, and lighter kisses along his jawline until he reaches the corner of Eren’s mouth, and that’s when the brunet turns and kisses him fully, moaning broken syllables against Levi’s lips, and it’s beautiful the way he unravels before him, all traces of dark, ominous dreams forgotten for the moment as pleasure takes hold of his body.

 

The illusion may not last but it’s the least Levi can do for him at the moment.

 

When Eren comes, it’s a sonata of staccato notes dancing on his tongue, salty and bitterly sweet from the rawness of his almost-scream, his back curving off the bed in an elegantly taunt arc as milky white strands cover his stomach and Levi’s hand, which he removes with a slight wince after he has made sure that Eren’s climax has subsided.

 

After Levi quickly cleans them up with some tissues, he places a slow kiss on Eren’s forehead, the tips of his auburn locks still sticking to his skin.

 

There’s warm, open fondness in Eren’s eyes when he glances up at him, and Levi doesn’t like to think that as the kind of gratitude that’s more dear than towards a stranger but less distant than towards a lover.

 

He doesn’t dare to clarify that expression on Eren’s face by asking him outright because admitting it out loud will make it a reality that Levi doesn’t think he can bear, but he doesn’t need to.

 

“What if…” Eren starts in a small, hesitant voice, a hand reaching out, and Levi thinks nothing of it when he instinctively catches it in his own, “What if I said I want it to mean something?”

 

-

 

“It’s been awhile, Levi,” the man greets him with a friendly smile as he joins him by the railing, beyond which is the swelling waters of the Sina Harbour made dull and lifeless on a grey winter day, two cups of steaming tea in his hands and he passes one of them over.

 

“Thanks,” his companion replies, taking the offered beverage but doesn’t seem to have the intent to drink it. His silver eyes never stray from the ocean.

 

“How are things back at the station?”

 

“Are you asking as an old friend or a scout from the Titans?”

 

Levi bites the inside of his cheek. “Erwin…” His tone tinges with a mixture of warning and hesitation.

 

“Well if you must know,” Erwin begins, azure eyes sparkling in quiet bemusement, “Mike’s sniffing at crime scenes still make other teams super uncomfortable, Hanji is still trying to persuade me to let her switch to forensics, and we’ve got some new blood – they’re all good kids, still green but they will become exceptional investigators given a few more years in the field.”

 

“I see.”

 

“Oh, and another thing,” Erwin takes a sip of his tea before continuing, his tone staying neutral, “it’s going to be a long process, but our team is currently investigating the assaults and related incidents initiated by the Titans and the Royals.”

 

“Yeah, I saw on the television the other day. Since when did you become the poster boy for Sina’s police force?”

 

Erwin laughs, the sound open and deep and his irises are brightened with warmth when he turns to look at the dark-haired man. He forgets how cheeky his right-hand man can get even at the tensest of times, and he’s missed it. But he knows there’s no way for Levi to go back now, not after what had happened that caused him to resign so many years ago. He wonders if the incident still plagues his friend; he’s not sure if it’s okay to ask.

 

“Erwin, stop,” Levi sighs, pivoting around and leaning his frame against the railing.

 

“I didn’t say anything,” Erwin points out.

 

“I can tell from your face,” Levi reminds him. “No, I’m not thinking about that anymore, at least not to the point where it’ll hinder my everyday life. I’ve made a choice; it was the wrong one and it cost Farlan and Isabel their lives. I will never let myself forget that, but it made me realize that working in such a structured environment as the police force was not for me.”

 

“You didn’t have to go back –– ”

 

“To being a criminal?” Levi interrupts him, a corner of his lips curling up sardonically. “I know that.” The grasp on his cup tightens. “But… it was easier that way. I didn’t know how else to live; I didn’t have the strength to do anything else.”

 

They don’t speak for a moment, each dwelling in their own thoughts. This conversation always leads them to a dead end; it’s an endless, vicious cycle.

 

“I’m going to be frank with you, Levi.”

 

“When are you ever not?”

 

Erwin places a careful hand on his bicep. “My team is steadily gathering evidence that can be used against the lower-level members of both organizations; it won’t be long until we find something that can lead us straight to the chief members, perhaps even the leaders themselves.”

 

Levi turns halfway towards the blond-haired man as an idea comes surfacing into his mind. Perhaps the police have found something about Grisha Jaeger’s disappearance; there’s no news about it on the media yet, but if they have leads on the whereabouts of Titans’ boss, the police wouldn’t be broadcasting it everywhere. At best, the information may cause panic all over the city, and it may start an actual war between the two factions if it comes to worst-case scenario.  

 

“What kind of evidence?” Levi makes sure his voice is leveled.

 

“You know I’m not allowed to tell you that,” Erwin says, letting his arm fall once more. “But I can tell you this much: the Titans may not be the safest group for you to be staying with anymore.”

 

“What do you mean?” Levi’s brows dip into a scowl.

 

“I’m only telling you this as a courtesy from an old friend,” his voice lowers to near-whisper so that Levi has to lean in to be able to hear the rest of his statement. “There are a few people from the Royals who have infiltrated into the Titans and have… given us a few nudges into the right direction regarding the inner workings of the organization.”

 

“And Grisha Jaeger?” Levi breathes, his heart stuttering hard against his chest because he’s afraid of what Erwin’s about to tell him.

 

“Ironically, it was all thanks to them that we’ve managed to detain him for now.”

 

“Shit.” This is worst than Levi has expected. It would have been so much easier to deal with if Grisha is in the hands of the Reiss clan, but if the police have him, then the chance of rescuing him is slimmer than they have anticipated.  

 

“You shouldn’t work for Eren Jaeger anymore,” Erwin warns. “Sooner or later, he’ll be captured and you’ll be caught in the middle of it. I’d hate to see that happening to you, and I’d hate it even more if I were the one to lock you up myself.”

 

“Eren’s different,” Levi finds himself saying, the words falling out despite how dangerous the underlying sentiment is. “He’s just a college kid, forced to become the Titans’ boss due to his bloodline.” Even as he speaks, Levi knows that he’s only half admitting the truth to himself: it’s true that unforeseen circumstances have prematurely pushed Eren to sit atop the thorn-ensnared throne, but even from long before, Eren has promised Grisha that he will proudly take his position as the Titans’ leader when Grisha deems him ready to take over. There has never been a doubt about that.

 

“If he’s already in the business, then you know that’s not a valid defense in court.”

 

“I won’t let things develop to that point,” Levi promises, a malicious light reflected in his stormy grey eyes.

 

“You’re letting your emotions get the better of you, Levi,” Erwin observes calmly. “I hope you’re not making the same mistake twice.”

 

“I’m thankful for what you’ve done for me, Erwin,” Levi can’t even look at him in the eye; he doesn’t think he can stand seeing the disappointment reflected in those trusting, intelligent blue eyes. Once upon a time, Levi thought he can dedicate his life for this man and his mission to eradicate corruption and evils in the city, but it only took one mistake for Levi to fall back into the filthy, muddy underground where he came from – where Erwin first picked him up and gave him a new purpose in life.

 

He can never repay Erwin Smith enough, and if it comes to a time when Erwin is to arrest him, he would go with him willingly. It’s different when Eren Jaeger is involved, though.

 

“But I think you – out of everyone else – will understand: Protecting Eren Jaeger is my duty, and I will carry out my obligation to the best of my abilities, even if it meant I had to get my hands dirty. My benefactor entrusts me with one purpose, and that is to keep his son safe. I cannot break a simple promise; that’d make me more inferior than a street thug.” The silver of his irises hardened into cold slates of metal – fearless and cold.

 

“It’s not _just_ that though, is it?” Erwin comments knowingly. “The Levi I know wouldn’t throw away his life for a mere superficial contract with a faction boss.”

 

When Levi refuses to rise to his bait, Erwin only chuckles. “This Eren must be a special one to garner your loyalty; he’s lucky to have you by his side.”

 

The cup in his hand is long empty, and the conversation is winding to an end. Erwin has a hunch that this is the last time he’ll be able to talk to his friend like this: peacefully by the sea, without broken promises and spilled blood. “It was really good to see you again, Levi.”

 

“Yeah, thanks.” Levi doesn’t specify for what, but he thinks Erwin gets it. He takes a tentative sip from his cup and winces at the overly sweetened drink. “What the fuck is this?”

 

“Lavender tea latte,” Erwin answers with an innocent smile before walking away and waving goodbye.

 

“You ass,” Levi murmurs with a fond shake of his head. “You know I hate that hippie tea latte shit.” When he gets back into his vehicle, Levi places the empty container in the cup-holder, the lingering scent of saccharine lavender a reminder of past friendship and a warning for the future.

 

On his way back to the Jaeger household, Erwin’s words continue to circle his mind. Levi can’t very well just burst out with the news of Grisha’s imprisonment without getting a few suspicious glances thrown his way that question the source of his information, though Eren would no doubt defend him.

 

And what of Eren himself? How would he react to the news that his father is currently in the hands of the police, and that his captivity is the work of rats sneaked in from the Royals? There will be no stopping Eren from doing anything rash then – what with the hatred for the Reiss family that has grown over the years, layer upon layer of lusty vengeance built up in his blood since his mother’s murder.

 

Before he can come up with a solution, his phone rings, the caller ID displaying Armin Arlert’s number.

 

“Yes, Mr. Arlert?” It’s very rare that Eren’s best friend would call him personally unless it’s something urgent; his heart is sinking even before Armin speaks.

 

“Is Eren with you?” Armin’s tone is calm but there’s a hint of rigidity to it.

 

“No,” Levi replies slowly. “I asked for half a day off for personal reasons, and he said he’ll get Eld and Oluo to accompany him to a meeting with the Garrison Roses this afternoon. Why?”

 

“Well for one thing, I saw Eld and Oluo about half an hour ago, and they said they’re planning to attend the meeting for Mr. Grisha’s investigation that Hannes has scheduled for today; they didn’t mention anything about going somewhere with Eren at all,” Armin’s voice is shivering when he says the next words, “And… I found a typed letter addressed to Eren on his desk just now.”

 

“What does it say?” His fingers on the steering wheel tighten, knuckled turning bone-white with tension.

 

“That if he wants to see Mr. Grisha safe and sound, Eren should head to 215 Trafalgar Avenue by himself, and that should he bring any backup,” Armin breathes out steadily through his nose, “they will make sure none of Eren’s people get out of the premises alive.”

 

“Where’s ––?”

 

“I’ve checked the address,” Armin answers quickly, because if there’s one thing he’s good at, it’s his job as the organization’s top researcher and planner. “The property is under the name of a distant cousin of the Reiss family; it’s supposed to be a motel but it’s currently under renovation. I’ve already sent our best people there, and Mikasa – well, you know how Mikasa is.”

 

Levi nods, though he knows Armin can’t see that gesture. If Mikasa is a perfect set of armour with no chinks or hidden weaknesses, as everyone in the business seems to view her, that’s because she’s kept it close to her all these years. She’s cold and unforgiving as winter’s sharp gale when she deals with most people, but when it comes to her step-brother, she’s transformed to another person – brash and prone to reckless behaviour in order to get her sibling out of trouble.

 

“Have you seen Annie, Bertolt, and Reiner today?” Levi asks, and his voice is not shaking – it’s merely the vibrations of the car.

 

“Reiner mentioned checking in with Thomas about the stock of ketamine at his club and whether or not he’ll be needing more for the coming month. That was about three hours ago.”

 

“Shit,” Levi mutters as he stomps on the accelerator. The black Mercedes Coupe swerves haphazardly around the car in front of it under Levi’s steering as he follows the direction that the GPS is displaying on his dashboard. And he thinks now is as good as any time to let someone know what’s going on. “Mr. Arlert, there’s something important I need to tell you.”

 

-

 

“Eren Jaeger, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

 

The figure, clad in skinny jeans, a navy hoody, and a scarf wind loosely around his neck just like any other college students, is about to step inside what appears to be a deserted construction site but freezes at the call of his name.

 

He turns around, sea-green eyes glaring back at him, and Levi recognizes the hatred and fury raging in his core – can see it in his body posture, how tense and wind-up his limbs are, and the ruthlessness in the curl of his lips.

 

“How did you find me?”

 

“Next time you’re going to a secret rendezvous, make sure to hide your love letter in a more secure place,” Levi comments and he’s making his way towards him, his strides wide and resolute, until he’s standing right before him. “Also, are you trying to get me fired and get yourself killed?”

 

“You didn’t call the others, did you?” As if suddenly remember the contents of the letter, Eren asks in slight panic, though his gaze is still darting cautiously around their surroundings. It’s a quiet back street, and not a soul in sight, let alone a vehicle except for Levi’s car that looks eerily out of place.

 

“Mr. Arlert notified me of your whereabouts, and he said Mikasa and the others are coming as well.”

 

“Shit,” Eren pulls his hoody tight over his head, a habit he’s always had since he was young whenever he feels anxious. “It’s bad enough that you’re here. Shit, shit, shit.”

 

“Eren, listen to me,” Levi grabs his charge’s hands tightly in his to make sure that he’s paying attention, and when their eyes meet, he continues, “Your father has not been kidnapped by a rival organization; he’s been caught by the –– ”

 

“Watch out!” Levi feels the air swoops out of his lungs when he falls backward, a certain brunet in tow and they both land on the concrete just as a shot rings out, whizzing past where Levi has been standing a second before.

 

“Damn it,” Levi mutters, his hands snatching for the handgun strapped to his side with practiced fluidity once he manages to get back on his feet. Eren staggers but he’s standing, his back against Levi’s and his hands feeling clumsy around the cold metal of his own weapon.

 

“Finish what you were saying,” Eren demands under his breath.

 

“Now’s not a good time, you shitty brat,” Levi replies coolly. He remembers the shot has come from the upper level of the half-constructed building, and his eyes are searching for any signs of movements from the many wooden beams that conveniently hide the shooters from Levi’s viewpoint.

 

“Well for your information, you just gave a blowjob to this shitty brat,” Eren continues as if he didn’t hear him, his arms shaking, and it’s not only because of the adrenaline that’s running through his bloodstream. “And you can’t call me a shitty brat, I’m your boss!”

 

“Irrelevant.”

 

A glint of blond hair catches the weak winter light, and Levi pivots sharply, shouts, “Duck!” and as Eren instinctively follows the command, the man swings around and locks his arms in place to fire.

 

A bodily thud can be heard clearly in the silence, and a second later, “Reiner! Shit. Reiner, you okay?”

 

“It’s them!” Eren turns to him, eyes brightened in excitement, and he seems to have forgotten about the fact that they’re in the middle of getting shot at. “But that means that the Royals must be involved! That damned Rod Reiss.”

 

“Eren!” He pulls at the rambling young man just in time as another shot narrowly misses Eren. They begin to back up all the way across the street and make a temporary hideout behind the brick pillar of a closed bookstore. “For fuck’s sakes. Do you want us to get killed?”

 

He’s clearly not listening anymore, because all he can think about is the possibility of getting information of his father’s whereabouts if they can just capture Annie and Bertolt.

 

“Mr. Grisha is not with the Royals,” Levi tries to explain, placing his hands gently on each side of Eren’s skull so that he can steadily turn his head to face him properly. “Yes, the three of them are from the Royals and yes, they have a hand in leading to your father’s disappearance, but the police has him now, Eren.”

 

He blinks owlishly at Levi for a full five seconds, letting the incomprehensive words sink in. “What?”

 

Levi sighs wearily. “If you’ve stuck around long enough to tell someone about the letter that is clearly a trap set to either have you killed or captured, then I would have told you about it. My acquaintance from the police force – that’s the blond you guys probably saw on the news the other day – gave me a friendly reminder.”

 

“And?” Eren frowns.

 

“He told me to quit working for you,” Levi answers, “because he believes that with Mr. Grisha in their captivity, they will be sure to gain enough evidence eventually to crack the Titans down.”

 

“And you believe him?”

 

“I do. I’ve trusted him with my life when I was in the forces with him; I still trust him now.”

 

“Fine,” Eren murmurs darkly. His trembling has stopped, his hand holding the gun steady. “Fine. What should we do now?”

 

“Come out, come out, young master,” a female voice calls out in a sing-song tone as she giggles with delight – a high-pitched, tinkling sound that neither Eren nor Levi has ever heard throughout the time she has been with the Titans.

 

“Quit taunting him, Annie. Let’s just get rid of Ackerman and take Eren with us so we can be done with this already,” Bertolt hurries.

 

From the source of their voices, it sounds like they’ve gotten out of their refuge in the construction site, which Levi thinks can work to their advantage.

 

“So you’re really thinking of quitting on me?” Eren wonders after a while when it seems like their enemies have drifted further off, curiosity spelled out across his face.

 

“Does me coming back to save your ass seem like a thing a man who’s planning to quit would do?” Levi wants to roll his eyes quite badly because now is so not an appropriate time to be having this discussion, but instead, he just replies Eren with his usual flippant sarcasm, which Eren surprisingly seems to accept without a malicious comeback.

 

“You’ve got a point.” And after a short moment, a small smile appears on his lips. “And thank you… for not giving up on me.”

 

“Tch. What a troublesome brat,” Levi yanks him by his shirtfront and kisses him quickly on the mouth, but fleeting as the kiss was, the two of them have somehow missed the footsteps that echo from the back of the building they’re hiding at gradually coming towards them.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Annie covers her mouth in a coy chuckle as she and Bertolt appear around the corner, sky blue eyes glittering in amusement as she raises her gun in their direction. Even as Eren and Levi scramble to aim with their own weapons, they know this is not going to go down without some bloodshed. “Didn’t realize we’re going to have to be separate a pair of lovebirds. What a pity.”

 

“Put down your gun, Ackerman,” Bertolt orders, then turning to Eren with a softer, apologetic tone, “You too, Eren.”

 

“Bertolt, Annie, why are you doing this?” Eren wants to know.

 

“Please, don’t ask us any more questions, okay?” Bertolt pleads. “Just. Just come with us and we’ll let your bodyguard go.” Annie sends him a pointed glower at the last statement but her companion is unwavering even under Annie’s blistering stare.

 

“Drop your weapons,” Annie repeats, “both of you.”

 

Eren is the first to lower his gun, placing it gingerly on the ground and kicking it away.

 

“That’s a good boy,” Annie coos approvingly. “What about you, Mr. Ackerman? Or would you like me to shoot your arm off first?” She shifts her weapon just slightly to the right, her grin bright and wild.

 

“I’d love to see you try,” Levi sneers, and as if to prove his point, he unlocks the safety of his gun with an audible click and then points it straight at Annie again.

 

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Bertolt stutters in alarm when it looks like Levi is about to pull the trigger. “We just need to take Eren with us; we’re just doing what we’ve been ordered to do, alright? There’s no need for any of us to get into this mess.”

 

“And then what are you going to do with my young master?” Levi asks, his silver gaze cold and unyielding.

 

“That’s for Mr. Reiss to decide,” Annie drawls. “It’s not really any of our business. We’re just the small potatoes, you see. We do our jobs right and we get paid; our families won’t starve, and everyone’s happy, right?”

 

“If you were having money troubles, why didn’t you tell us?” Eren asks.

 

“It’s not that simple,” Bertolt is about to say more, but Annie shoots him another warning glare.

 

“How about we stop this chit-chat and get going?” With that, she aims for Levi’s heart and pulls the trigger without any hesitation.

 

He groans in pain as he feels the bullet burning a path across his flesh, and then rivulets of warm blood gush and run down his arm, the sleeve of his smoke-grey jacket quickly soaked wet in crimson, staining the material black.

 

Even as he staggers on his feet, his left arm bleeding excessively that he would no doubt be feeling the effect within a few minutes, it doesn’t stop Levi from gripping his gun tighter and re-aiming it at Annie, who has already been pushed down onto the ground by a snarling Mikasa warning her not to struggle else she hurts herself “by accident”; they all know what that threat implies.

 

“Let go!” Annie spits out venomously, her pale blond locks wild around her face and blue eyes widening like a caged animal as she struggles to no avail, her arms locked behind her back and her gun fallen a few feet away from her.

 

Beside her, Bertolt seems to understand their situation and mutely drops his gun, raising his arms up and letting the other Titans take ahold of him.

 

“Oh shit, Levi, you’re bleeding a lot,” Levi turns dazedly to see Eren’s worried frown, wondering what the boy is fussing about now, and then he remembers that he’s supposed to be shot.

 

“Great observation skills,” Levi tells him before he crumples to the floor, and Eren is right there to support him, lowering both of them to the ground slowly as to not jostle Levi’s injury.

 

“Shut up,” Eren mutters, and he takes off his scarf to make a temporary dressing for Levi’s wound, winding it taunt and causing Levi to gasp in pain and glaring at him accusingly. “Can you make it back to the main house?”

 

“Please, Eren,” Levi rolls his eyes – actually rolls his eyes at him in a perfectly teenage manner that Eren is honestly quite impressed. He guesses the blood loss must be catching up to him by now. “It’s only my arm; I’ve had worse. All thanks to your sister, I suppose.”

 

He searches for her in the small crowd and when their eyes meet, Levi nods his thanks silently, and though he sees Mikasa’s lips twitch in irritation – Levi knows she’s never been fond of him, what with his background as an ex-cop and shadier past before that – she returns the gesture nevertheless, a wordless thanks for sticking by her brother’s side.

 

For a fleeting second, Levi wonders what Mikasa would think if she knows of his and Eren’s recent development in their relationship. On second thoughts, he doesn’t really want to ponder about the consequences quite so soon.

 

“How’re you holding up?” Mikasa comes over and crouches beside her brother.

 

“Alive,” Levi breaths out a laugh, and Mikasa lets a reluctant smile lifts the corner of her lips.

 

“That’s good to hear.” Her expression becomes more solemn as she continues. “Armin has told me everything. So Annie and the other two are from the Royals, huh?”

 

“I don’t think they’re doing this willingly though,” Eren pipes up, and when Mikasa looks at him inquiringly, he explains. “Bertolt was just about to tell us something else. If money is their only concern, Annie wouldn’t be that quick to stop Bertolt from saying whatever he was about to say.”

 

“You still believe them?” Mikasa’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Even after what they’ve put you and Father through?”

 

“Just,” Eren bites the inside of his cheek, “just take it easy on them during the interrogation, okay?”

 

Her lips tighten into a straight line. “Whatever you say, Eren.” And that’s the end of that conversation.

 

“And what should we do about Father?” Mikasa directs the question at her brother as they carefully lead the injured Levi towards the car; Mikasa settles in the driver’s seat while Eren accompanies Levi in the backseat. The older man seems especially quiet given the situation, and when Eren peeks over at his bodyguard, he finds the man’s eyes have drifted closed and his complexion pale, dozing lightly and about to lean right against Eren’s shoulder.

 

He can’t help but let a tender smile cross his lips, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Mikasa, who’s glancing back at the two men through the rearview mirror.

 

“If Levi’s right, then what else can we do?” Eren releases an exhausted sigh. “The police have made sure to keep Father’s location a secret. If they charge him with something, at least we can find a good lawyer to help him, but as of right now, we’re not even supposed to know his location, let alone get him out from right beneath their noses.”

 

“He used to be one of them,” Mikasa jerks her head towards Levi, tone filled with distaste. “Can’t he take advantage of the connection – ask for a special favor or something?”

 

“My friend and past superior may be nice enough to pass the information on to me,” Levi’s eyes are still shut and his voice is cracking with fatigue, “but he also promises to put me behind bars the next time he catches me stepping out of line. If I’ve learned anything from my work at Sina’s police force, it’s that Erwin’s team is the least corruptible out of all the other greedy higher-ups who work there.”

 

“You’re pretty chatty for someone who’s supposed to be fainting from blood loss,” Mikasa remarks evenly.

 

“Just trying to be helpful here,” Levi offers with a mocking curve of his mouth before leaning his entire weight against Eren’s side, the muscles of his face slacking from exhaustion.

 

“Levi? Levi!” Eren stares down at the raven-haired man, giving him a slight shake until he hisses, his face twisting with agony.

 

“We’re almost home,” Mikasa reports.

 

“Stay with me, Levi,” Eren mutters, fingers brushing the dark strands of sweat-soaked hair away from his forehead. And it was only a few seconds later that he realizes the possible underlying implication of his request, his cheeks suddenly staining pink.

 

As delirious as Levi seems to be in his current state, however, he still manages to crack a playful smile – an expression that’s rarely seen on the stoic man – though the effect may have been slightly ruined by the grimace caused by his throbbing injury, and says, “Wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else.”

 

-

 

So, a list of duties and responsibilities that Eren still needs to learn awaits him in order for him to be truly capable of taking over his father’s business as the Jaeger clan’s successor, and there’s still the matter of his father’s imprisonment and the Royals’ incessant attacks that Eren needs to handle. After all, Eren knows from long before that it’s not going to be an easy route to become one of Sina’s most feared and respected individuals.

 

Yet, as he watches Levi wakes up the next day - the man who has saved him countless of times and has been watching over him since he was a child, the one who he can entrust his life and heart with – the vibrant silver of his eyes reflecting the rare winter sunlight that breaks through the grey haze of the skies from outside the window, Eren believes, just for a moment, that everything will turn out all right.

 

Eventually, things will fall into place.

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 12,800 words later, Mikasa saves everyone’s arses. I’m okay with that. But did they manage to somehow save Grisha? Did they end up destroying the Royals before a gang war would start? And does Levi really hate hippie tea lattes that much? Due to the laziness of this author, we will never find out. Anyway I hope everyone have enjoyed this fic. Since this is most likely going to be the last fic I’m posting in 2014, I wish everyone a happy holidays and a wonderful new year!


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